


All Good Things

by miss_aphelion



Series: Tony Stark’s Guide for the Care and Feeding of Recovering Assassins [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, M/M, POV Sam Wilson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 13:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15819915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_aphelion/pseuds/miss_aphelion
Summary: When Bucky came to ask him for a favor, Sam was wary. He didn’t need another super soldier friend. One was enough. One wasplenty.(Or; Sam makes another super soldier friend)





	All Good Things

**Author's Note:**

> So this is basically just a little interlude, in that it will take place during chapter 32 of Dig No Graves (which isn’t finished yet, but this can be read first), but I wanted to post it alone because this is a little different than the other timestamps I’ve posted under Carrying Small Stones. It’s not exactly a standalone because you need Dig No Graves for background, but it’s still pretty much a one-shot. I just wanted to write a kind of Sam and Bucky adventure story (and instead this happened).

_It is easy to hate and it is difficult to love. This is how the whole scheme of things works. All good things are difficult to achieve, and bad things are very easy to get. - Confucius_

 

 

Sam couldn’t get over this place. Steve had given him an entire suite on his floor, and it was bigger than his house back in D.C. Somehow he’d gone from honorary Avenger to actual Avenger, and at some point after their return from Siberia, he’d finally started to come to terms with the fact that _this was actually happening_. 

So he’d maybe gotten a little cocky, and the disaster that was Sokovia had taken him by surprise. Steve’s BFF was a pain in the ass but Sam never wanted him hurt, and when Natasha and Bucky had come stumbling into the quinjet together he’d been terrified at first they’d both been shot. 

But it had ended up being a different sort of wound, and despite his experience at the VA, way the hell above his pay grade. 

So he left Bucky to Steve and Tony Stark, who seemed more than happy to have the job. Sam kept mostly to himself, instead, and helped Steve out when he was freaking out and waking up screaming because Bucky’s hand had slipped away from his—and Sam would cheer him up, and try not to think of Riley falling from so far out of his reach he’d never even stood a chance of catching him. 

He wasn’t even sure which was worse. 

So things were okay. He was dealing. He’d put in his notice at D.C. because it wasn’t like he could back out now, not like he even wanted to, when he finally felt alive again for the first time since he’d come back. He’d said he didn’t want to take orders anymore, but the truth was he didn’t mind them so much from Steve. Maybe because he agreed with every single one. 

Well, except for maybe this _last one_ , which was that Steve and Natasha were going back to Sokovia alone to chase down a lead on the Maximoffs. Sam was itching to join them, but apparently it only required a two-man team. Now that they were gone, he’d pretty much resigned himself to a boring couple of days. 

Then Bucky Barnes came knocking at his door. 

“Uh, hi?” Bucky said. He was wearing ripped jeans and combat boots with another one of those costume hoodies he was so fond of. This latest one was Thor—it even had little wings on the sides of the silver hood. He swore Stark got an eye twitch every time that Bucky wore it. 

Based on his attire and his weirdly shy greeting, Sam was thinking this was more personal and less Avengers business, so he leaned against the doorjamb and raised an eyebrow in question. 

“You get lost?” Sam asked. 

Bucky frowned at him, his forehead crinkling into what Stark called Bucky’s perplexed kitten expression. Sam was a grown ass man, he did not find this cute. Seriously. He _didn’t_. 

“No?” he said. “I came to see you. If you aren’t busy.” 

“You’re being polite,” Sam told him warily. “I’m gonna be honest, it’s kind of freaking me out.” 

“I’m always polite,” Bucky insisted, and somehow seemed to honestly believe it. 

Sam gaped at him in disbelief. Pretty much since the moment they met, Bucky had been treating him like he was the new unwanted step-sibling. “I can’t believe you actually said that with a straight face,” he said. 

“I just—“ Bucky started haltingly, before looking down at his feet, and then speaking all in one breath and at about double speed: “I-need-to-go-somewhere-and-I-don’t-want-to-go-alone.” 

Sam blinked at him, trying to run that back through his mind to translate it. “You want me to go somewhere with you?” 

Bucky glanced up, looking relieved. “Yes,” he agreed. “If you don’t already have plans. Which, Steve isn’t here, so I figured you wouldn’t. And it shouldn’t take long.” 

“Where’s Stark?” Sam asked in confusion. Sam was pretty sure there wasn’t anything that Stark wouldn’t do for Bucky. Their love was part adorable, part sickening, and part terrifying. Sort of depended on the day. “He’d take you.” 

“He doesn’t know about it,” Bucky explained, and Sam started to feel a little uneasy. “It’s about my boon—you know, the favors Thor offered us?” 

Sam’s concern increased, but he tried to stay outwardly calm. This sounded like it too was above his pay-grade. Thor—the actual god of thunder, holy shit—had indeed offered each of them a ‘boon’ for their assistance in retrieving the scepter. There were limits—Sam had checked—so no day trips to Asgard or immortal life, or any of that, but otherwise it was pretty open. 

Bucky wanting something he didn’t want Stark to know about didn’t sound good. Next time Steve tried to sideline him from a mission, he was going to stowaway in the Quinjet. It couldn’t possibly be more stressful than this. 

“—a book, he found it for me at this used bookstore, and I just need to go pick it up—“ 

Sam looked up in surprise, realizing he’d been tuning him out. “Wait,” he cut in, throwing up a hand. “What’s a book? You had…you had a _god_ track down a book for you? That was your favor?” 

“Well, technically I think Thor had Heimdall do it,“ Bucky started again, looking uncharacteristically flustered. He blew out a loud sigh. “—but yeah, so I just—“ 

Sam waved his hand, cutting him off. “Hasn’t anyone told you about Amazon?” he demanded. 

Bucky leaned back on his heels, his eyes rolling in a manner that would put even Sam’s fifteen year old baby cousin to shame. “Yes,” he said. “I know about Amazon. I wasn’t actually born yesterday.” 

“So not an ordinary book then,” Sam guessed. “What do you need me for? Don’t you have like, a personal driver or something?” 

Despite Bucky’s official status as an employee of Stark Industries, Sam had realized pretty early on that Bucky had all benefits of a permanent resident. Which meant access to any of the vehicles or drivers, and access to ask Jarvis to get him pretty much anything he wanted. 

So there was no shortage in options if Bucky needed help with...well, _anything_.

“I don’t need you,” Bucky insisted, glancing down at his feet. “I can go alone, it’s just…the reporters are everywhere now, and people…I think people are scared of me.” 

Sam had to be careful not to laugh, because at the moment Bucky looked like one of the least dangerous people he’d ever seen. He was wearing a _Thor hoodie_ like a goddamn kindergartner—but for the first time, Sam realized maybe that was the point. Because Bucky Barnes _was_ dangerous, to an extent he’d never chosen on his own. He was apparently at Natasha Romanoff’s level, and Sam had seen enough of her to know what that meant. 

He’d also seen Bucky take down some of his fellow super soldiers in Siberia with the same fearless fighting style as Steve, so he was sort of terrifying in more ways than one.

Maybe the wardrobe choices, and all of his Disney movie marathons, were just one huge fuck you to Hydra, who had tried to strip out everything good about him. 

“Yeah, this was a bad idea,” Bucky muttered, as he turned to leave. Sam had obviously let his silence go on too long. “Just forget it. I’ll go on my own.” 

“Wait, hold up,” Sam called, frowning in concern, because that definitely did not sound like a good idea. 

Bucky pulled to a reluctant halt and glanced back at him. “What?” 

Sam tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t sound like he was trying to babysit him. And it wasn’t as if Bucky wasn’t allowed to go out on his own. He absolutely was.

It was just that since the news broke that Bucky Barnes was back from the dead, he couldn’t step out the front doors of the tower without getting ambushed. Stark _loved_ getting ambushed by the press, and had taken great delight in messing with them, but despite Bucky’s apparent ease with them, Sam could tell he wasn’t all that happy with the attention. 

“Why come to me?” he asked, hoping to find some kind of connection. Maybe this was an olive branch, and he was being dismissive and losing his shot at an actual friendship here. 

“Pepper and Happy are busy at the office, and Steve and Nat are in Sokovia with Rhodey tracking down that lead,” he said, and then shrugged. 

“So I’m your last resort,” Sam said wryly. “That’s what you’re telling me.” 

“No,” Bucky said, drawing out the word, “that would be Clint.” 

Sam gave a startled laugh. Bucky and Clint’s interactions tended to devolve into marksmanship competitions whenever left alone together for too long. They were both a little too competitive, and despite both of them being generally good-natured, it usually didn’t end well. So far they’d never been able to break out of ending with a draw. 

Anyway, Sam supposed he was lucky not to be dead last on the list. 

“You know what, Barnes?” Sam decided, reaching back inside to grab his jacket. “I’ll take that. Let’s go.” 

Bucky looked wary now, eyeing him with suspicion, and Sam regretted his initial dismissal. He knew exactly how hard it was to reach out. 

“You really don’t have to,” Bucky insisted. “We’ll probably just end up bitching at each other the whole time. It was a bad idea.” 

“Yeah, probably,” Sam said. “But I’m gonna go with you anyway. You wouldn’t have come here if it wasn’t important—though I have to say, the fact that you’re keeping it secret is a bit concerning.” 

“It’s not like I’m plotting anything nefarious,” Bucky told him dryly, as he turned to lead them to the elevator. “It’s a _present_. I’d like it to be a surprise.” 

“Oh,” Sam said, feeling stupid, because _of course_. “The book is for Stark?” 

“Yeah?” Bucky agreed. “I thought that was implied.”

Sam tried to think back, but he couldn’t ever remember seeing Tony Stark with a book. “Uh…didn’t know he likes those,” Sam said. 

Bucky looked at him like he was stupid. “He reads on his tablet, mostly scientific and engineering papers, but still. Tony _is_ literate. I hope I haven’t shocked you.” 

“You’re a smart-ass, you know that?” Sam snapped. 

Bucky just smiled back at him, that sweet seemingly innocent smile he used to get both Steve and Stark wrapped around his little finger. Sam could see right through it, and narrowed his eyes. He knew Bucky Barnes was a damn trouble-maker. 

“Lobby, Jarvis,” Bucky said, as he leaned back against the elevator and slid on a pair of sunglasses before pulling up his hood.

“Of course, Bucky,” Jarvis said. “Where should I say you are if Sir should inquire?” 

“Tell him I went out running,” Bucky said. 

There was a brief pause. “Forgive me, Bucky,” Jarvis said, “but do you not think we should go with something a little more believable?” 

Sam snorted as Bucky’s mouth drew into an offended pout. “I run sometimes,” he insisted. 

Sam was pretty sure that was a flat out lie. Stark seemed insistent that Bucky was a morning person, but either he'd changed his patterns or everyone was just a morning person to Stark, who tended to spend entire nights working. Because ever since Bucky Barnes being alive was now public knowledge, Steve had been trying to get him to get up early to go running with them. Bucky had come up with increasingly lame excuses about why he couldn’t, starting with the pathetic, ‘but, _sleep_ , Steve’ and escalating to the ridiculous, ‘I can’t actually run anymore, it’s really sad, but the vibranium skeleton in my arm is just too heavy. I’d tilt and just start running in circles. Is that what you want, Steve? People will _laugh_.’ 

Sam had always wondered if Steve’s magic super serum would still do its work if he stopped working out like he was training for the damn Olympics, and Bucky Barnes made for a great control in that particular scientific query. He laid around watching movies and reading and toying with things in Stark’s lab, with the most exercise he got being the occasional sparring session with Natasha, and yet somehow he seemed to just be getting _more_ muscles. 

Sam really hated him sometimes. 

“Fine,” Bucky sighed after a moment. “Just tell him I went out to meet with Luke.” 

“Who’s Luke?” Sam asked. 

“Just some guy I met at Mos Eisley,” Bucky said. 

“This is what I mean,” Sam snapped. “That is not polite.” 

Bucky just grinned. “He’s just a friend, chill out,” he said. “Maybe some day if you’re on your best behavior, I’ll even introduce you.” 

“Did you just tell me to chill out?” Sam demanded. “I am an expert at chill. No one’s as chill as me.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes as the elevator arrived in the lobby and he stepped off. “Pretty sure no one can beat me and Steve for chill,” he said. 

“Ha ha,” Sam said, with an exaggerated laugh. “Another frozen reference, how original. As though I don’t get enough of that from Steve. _’Dude, you left all the dishes in the sink again’….’Oh, I’m sorry, Sam, I was frozen for seventy years and we didn’t have dishes where I came from_.’” 

Bucky snorted. “Oh, we had them,” he said. “I was just the one that had to do them.” 

“I knew it,” Sam crowed. 

“Come on,” Bucky said, as they approached the exit. “Follow my lead.” 

Bucky grabbed Sam’s wrist and tugged his arm over his shoulders, before leaning into him. He hunched his shoulders a bit to make himself smaller, until he looked almost half a foot shorter than Sam. Sam’s mind was still stuck on: _what the hell_ when he realized they’d just bypassed the throng of reporters huddled outside the tower, and no one had looked at them twice. 

Sam glanced behind them with wide eyes as they moved towards the crosswalk, and Bucky released his hand and stepped ahead of him. 

“Holy shit,” Sam said. “They didn’t even glance at you.” 

Bucky pressed his mirrored sunglasses further back up his nose and smirked at him. “No one expects Bucky Barnes, POW and war hero, to be wearing a Thor hoodie out in public,” he said, overly-serious. 

“Wait, so that’s why you wear that stuff?” Sam asked, and laughed. “That’s genius.” 

Bucky shrugged. “I mean, _actually_ , I discovered they don’t notice me when I’m dressed this way when I went out for ice cream in my Gir hoodie.” 

“What the hell is a ‘Gir’?” Sam demanded. 

“You’re so uncivilized, Wilson,” Bucky told him. “Catch up on some pop-culture, would you? I can’t be explaining everything to you. Maybe you need to make a list, like Steve.” 

“Have I told you lately that I hate you?” Sam asked. 

“Not since yesterday,” Bucky told him. 

“Yeah, well, I hate you,” Sam told him. “Where are we going, anyway?” 

“Bountiful Books,” Bucky said, pulling out his phone. He already had the address entered into the GPS. Wilson snorted and leaned forward to read the distance, and was received it was only a couple of blocks away.

It was a constant source of hilarity that people seemed to think Steve had no understanding of technology, and since Bucky Barnes’ back from the dead reveal, they’d started to do it to him, too. Sam was pretty sure they could both navigate a Starkphone better than he could. He’d only even had a Starkphone himself since Stark had given him one as a gift a couple weeks back. 

They hadn’t quite cleared the first block when Bucky frowned and nudged him. “We’re being followed,” he said. “Seven o’clock. Don’t look.” 

“Shit,” Sam said, resisting the urge to turn. “Hydra?” 

“What?” Bucky asked, glancing at him with a frown. “Oh! No. Tourists.” 

“I swear to god, Barnes—“ Sam started in frustration, before going ahead and turning to look back. He wasn’t afraid of _tourists_. 

Sure enough, there were a couple guys across the road walking almost parallel with them. Both had their cellphones out, and held up. Sam wasn’t one to try and put people in a box, but they looked like they’d come from the mid-west. Or maybe a biker gang. Both were tall, and heavyset. He would have preferred a couple of more harmless looking tourists with I-heart-New York fanny packs or something, but still, there didn’t seem to be anything to get worried about. 

He rolled his eyes and pulled his eyes away. “Look, just ignore them, alright?” he said. “It’s gonna happen. I mean, it hasn’t happened to _me_ , but those video shots in D.C. didn’t really get my face. I’m sure that—“ 

Sam trailed off as he realized he wasn’t hearing any derisive laughs or snide comments, and glanced to his side to find Bucky was gone. He turned in place, narrowing his eyes when he saw Bucky just hopping up on to the sidewalk on the other side of the street. 

And right up to the guys that had been watching them.

“He’s actually worse than Rogers,” Sam muttered to himself. “How can he be _worse_.” 

He stepped up to the street but a light had just turned green, and though New Yorkers never got to have much more than bursts of speed between traffic jams, they never hesitated to go as fast as they could when the opportunity arose. He sighed as he waited for them to slow enough he could slip through, and frowned over at Bucky. 

He still had his hood and glasses on, but Sam could just make out his profile and he was smiling and laughing with the two men as he took something from them. Jesus. Did this guy have no sense at all? 

The light changed and he pushed into the street, slipping between the cars to job up to Bucky’s side. The men were already turning and leaving, after having waved goodbye. 

“I thought you were a world class assassin, what the hell?” Sam said. “You don’t just go talking to strangers.” 

Bucky just stared back at him with amusement. “I’m not five years old,” he said. “I’m allowed to talk to strangers.” 

“You know what I mean,” Sam said in frustration. “What if they really were Hydra? You can’t just trust people. I thought Steve was bad, but he’s mostly just pretending to be naive. He doesn’t actually just flounce up to random people and introduce himself.”

“I do not flounce. I walk with intent,” Bucky insisted, as he started moving again, walking with _intent_ , apparently. “And I just asked them if they’d stop filming me. I told them I was on a secret mission. They agreed but wanted me to sign something for them.” He looked over at Sam, nearly pouting. “I just don’t know how they even spotted me when I’m in disguise.” 

Sam snorted, but it was a valid question. Sunglasses and a hoodie may not be the best disguise ever, but it worked better on Steve and Bucky than anyone else he’d known. There was just an expectation with them, to see them in their iconic uniforms, or other 1940s clothes. The modern look of the hoodies threw the mind for a loop, and prevented it from making the right connections. 

But Sam had a feeling that ability was going to wear off soon. Bucky and Steve were getting spotted more and more in modern clothes. 

“You do know you’re just wearing sunglasses, right?” Sam asked. “I mean, you’re not Clark Kent. You could at least grow a beard if you wanted to be incognito.” 

“Shoulda kept my hair long, I guess,” Bucky sighed. “I just didn’t realize people would even remember me.” 

“Ha,” Sam said. “Are you kidding? You guys were huge even before Cap came back. I used to play _Howling Commandos_ on my Nintendo 64 when I was a kid,” he said. “I mean, I was usually Gabe Jones, but sometimes I chose you so I’d get to be a sniper.” 

“They let kids be _snipers_?” Bucky asked, horrified. 

“I mean, it was just a game,” Sam said, before his eyes widened in realization, “well, a game about your actual time in the war. I can see how that would be disturbing.” 

Bucky laughed disbelievingly. “Christ,” he said. “Shouldn’t be surprised, I guess. They glorified it back when I was still in the war, so why not. Of course they made it a game.” 

Sam sighed. “Yeah, not much has changed,” he admitted. “They’re even still using Steve on the recruitment posters.” 

Bucky laughed, but it sounded more bitter than anything. “Yeah,” he said. “I never would have joined up, on my own,” he admitted. He finally looked back over at Sam, and he seemed so sad. “Don’t tell Stevie that, okay?” 

“He’d never judge you,” Sam assured him softly. “Not for anything. You know that, right?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky said, grinning wryly. “S’not what I’m worried about. He’d think I was only there because of him. He already blames himself enough.” 

Sam realized what he wasn’t saying. “He was the reason you stayed, wasn’t he?” he asked quietly. 

“No, cause that makes it sound like it’s on him,” Bucky said, and shrugged, as he started walking to keep them movie. “It’s not that simple. There was just no way I was going anywhere without him.” 

Sam could see why he’d asked him not to say anything. Steve would never understand the subtle difference in that—he already thought he was responsible for everything bad that happened anywhere remotely near him, never mind the things that happened to the people he loved. 

“Alright, that’s enough of the heart-to-heart,” Sam decided. “Come on.” 

“Where are you going?” Bucky asked, rushing forward to catch up to him. “We’ve got to get back to the other side of the street.” 

“If I’m gonna be your bodyguard for the day—“ Sam started. 

“If you were my bodyguard you wouldn’t be very good,” Bucky told him. “You’ve already lost track of me once.” 

Sam carried on, ignoring him. “—you’re at least going to buy me a coffee. I mean, you’re a billionaire. So, maybe a pastry, too.” 

“I’m not a billionaire,” Bucky said. “I can afford to buy you a _pastry_ , but I’m not a billionaire.” 

“You’re as good as,” Sam said, as he pushed into a small coffee shop. “You’re practically a Stark now. All you’re missing is the ring.”

“That’s not…” Bucky started, frowning slightly. “I think we both know Tony’s too good for me. I’m just planning to enjoy this while I can.” 

Sam wanted to protest that, but they had arrived at his favorite coffee shop, and this type of conversation definitely called for caffeine. He’d been planning to offer to place their order, but Bucky just went directly into line like he came here all the time, and sure enough—the barista greeted him like an old friend. 

“Bob! We’ve missed you around here,” she cried, happily. “You want the usual?” 

Bucky— _Bob???_ —leaned on the counter, giving her an incandescent grin. Sam noticed that her name tag said ‘Keri.’

“Nah, no Tony today, Ker, he’s busy working. You know what he’s like,” he said. “But I’ll have a Iced White Chocolate Mocha. Sam?” 

“Regular black coffee for me,” Sam said, leaning forward. “But I’ll take one of those blueberry croissants.” 

“You got it,” she said, flashing a grin. “Anything for a friend of Bob’s.” 

They got their order and found a table by the window. Sam raised an eyebrow as he sat down. “Bob?” 

“That’s my cover identity,” Bucky explained. “Bob Morrison. Pleasure to meet you. I run security for Tony Stark.” 

Sam’s lips quirked. “Tony set you up as ‘Bob.’” 

“Yeah, why’s everyone always think that’s funny? What’s wrong with Bob?” Bucky asked. 

“Considering your actual name is ‘Bucky,’ I guess I can see why the humor alludes you,” Sam deadpanned. “But you do not look like a Bob.” 

“What’s a Bob look like, exactly?” Bucky asked, but Sam wasn’t fooled by the innocence in his tone. 

“Yeah, whatever, Bob is fine,” he admitted, because honestly the only thing he could picture when he heard ‘Bob’ was a little yellow sponge. “What I’d really like to talk about, is what you meant about Stark being too good for you?” 

Sam took a long satisfying drink of his coffee, fortifying himself for the conversation ahead. He’d tried to have these conversations with Steve before, and they never went well. He’d probably need a psychology degree and years of training on the field to get anywhere with a super soldier. 

Except he’d forgotten that Bucky Barnes pretty much lived to prove him wrong, so he just shrugged like the question was no big deal. 

“I’m a realist, is all,” Bucky said simply. “I’m not going to tell Tony he needs to do better than me, that’s not my place. I think…I mean, I think I make him happy, at least for now. So even if I don’t deserve it, he deserves everything.” 

“I’m not sure if that’s really healthy or really fucked up,” Sam decided. 

“Welcome to my life,” Bucky said, grinning wryly as he casually sipped at his mocha. 

Sam snorted. “You ask me, you two deserve each other,” he decided. 

Bucky flashed a sweet smile, like he thought that was compliment or something, and Sam rolled his eyes. “Sickening,” he muttered, as he pulled off a piece of his croissant. “But speaking of Stark, you really think he’s not gonna worry about you being out like this?” 

“He stopped following me with drones awhile ago,” Bucky said. “I think he’s okay with it now.” 

“He was following you with drones?” Sam demanded. “Jeez.” 

“Drawback of living in a tower of superheroes, they’re all super overprotective and nosy,” Bucky said simply. “Clint’s been following us since we left.” 

“ _What_?” Sam demanded, leaning forward to look out the window. “What the hell? Why didn’t you say anything? Where is he?” 

“He’s sitting at the table behind you,” Bucky said simply, giving a shrug. 

Sam spun around. There was a man in a ball cap sitting with his back to him, and the shoulders were hunching further and further like he wanted to melt into the table. “Clint?” Sam snapped. 

“In my defense,” Clint said with a sigh, smoothly getting to his feet and spinning the chair around to set it between theirs, “I wanted to spend my day watching Dog Cops. You can blame Natasha for this.” 

Clint was wearing a denim jacket with a plaid button up beneath it, and Doc Martins. His hat was pulled low over his eyes, but Sam still wasn’t quite sure how he’d missed him. Maybe he’d been wrong to say caps didn’t actually count as a disguise, or maybe he needed to seriously work on his spacial awareness. 

Sam made an outraged noise as Clint leaned forward and stole half his croissant, but it disappeared into the other man’s mouth before he could stop it. “So what are we doing today,” Clint asked, with his mouth full. 

Bucky slumped his chair and looked at Sam. “See? This is why he’s last on the list,” he explained. 

“What?” Clint demanded. “Last at what? Way I remember it, you haven’t beaten me yet, kid.” 

“We should compete on who is the best at tailing someone, because I guarantee I’d win,” Bucky told him. “You’re terrible.” 

“I’m wonderful, you’re just too damn good. You’ve even spotted _Natasha,_ once or twice. That’s terrifying,” Clint said, before reaching over to steal Bucky’s mocha. “Jesus, what the hell is this, a melted candy bar?” he demanded, then he shrugged, and downed the rest of it. 

“Hey!” Bucky protested, but it was too late, his mocha was gone. He stared forlornly into the empty cup when Clint pushed it back. “Aren’t there rules about not stealing someone’s mocha when you’re tailing them?” 

“You already spotted me, and Nat’s gonna be pissed,” Clint explained. “I might as well get something out of it.” 

Sam looked back at Bucky in disbelief. “Why aren’t you more upset about this?” 

“Because they’ve been following me around since they showed up at the tower,” Bucky explained. “It’s not a big deal.” 

“Not a big deal, he says,” Sam muttered, before glaring at Clint. “What the hell, man? You follow all your friends around?”

“No, just the ones that Hydra’s got a big huge target on,” he said, before glancing at Bucky. “And it’s not making my job easier, everyone knowing where you are now.” 

“I still blame Steve for that,” Bucky said. “But if we’re being honest, it’s not like I wouldn’t have stopped to help a little girl save a kitten, so…” 

Clint laughed. “Yeah, who knew a kitten would be the Winter Soldier’s Achilles' heel?” 

Bucky went still, his face paling. “Don’t call me that.” 

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Clint said quietly. “Nat, she took the name they gave her and made it her own.” 

“And I’m glad she did,” Bucky said. “But I chose to take back my own.” 

Clint sighed, and slouched in his seat. “You’re gonna make me pay for that, aren’t you?” he asked. “Why do I feel like you’re not gonna make this easy on me?”

“If you want me to forgive you, promise to give us a ten minute head start,” Bucky said. 

“Ten minutes? Be reasonable! I’ll never find you,” Clint complained. 

“No, but you can get another mocha on me,” Bucky said, dropping a ten dollar bill on the table as he got up. 

“Yeah, alright, I _promise_ ,” Clint said easily, grabbing the money and heading back to the line. “Ten minutes. But when Nat kills me, you gotta bring flowers to my funeral.”

“Deal,” Bucky called back, as he ushered Sam out the doors. 

“And I want lilies!” Clint screamed after them. “None of that cheap carnation shit!” 

Sam glared back at the coffee place, as Bucky lead them back across the street. “They really follow you around like that?” he demanded, still offended on his behalf. “Don’t they trust you?” 

“Natasha doesn’t trust anyone, but she’s looking out for me, in her own way,” Bucky shrugged. “It’s how she shows she cared. Anyway, I could lose Clint if I wanted to. He’s not that great of a tail. Now, if he knew where we were going to be and had time to set up a snipers nest to wait, then I might not spot him until it was already too late.” 

“How is this my life now,” Sam muttered to himself. “Steve would be pissed if he knew they were following you.” 

“Steve would have me lowjacked if he could,” Bucky snorted. “Pretty sure Nat sends updates direct to him.” 

Sam bristled. “I need to have a talk with him?” he asked. 

“He’d stop it if I asked,” Bucky shrugged. “But I used to worry over him every goddamn day when we were kids. Wouldn’t be right for me to begrudge him worrying over me now.” 

Sam figured that was fair, and it wasn’t like there weren’t legitimate reasons to worry about Bucky Barnes being out in the world without back up. That was the whole reason he’d come in the first place, instead of staying in to see if he could find something on Netflix he hadn’t already watched. It would have been wonderful. He could be in his pajamas right now. 

“This way,” Bucky said, cutting across the sidewalk towards a subway entrance. 

Sam frowned as he followed. “I thought you didn’t like the subway?” 

“We’re not taking it,” Bucky said, “but I should put some effort into losing Clint, otherwise he might actually find us after he finishes his mocha. If we head out in three more exits we’ll be right across from the bookstore.” 

“Man, I still can’t believe you wasted Thor’s favor on a book,” Sam said. 

“You think I could have used it better?” Bucky asked after a moment, uncertain. “Tony’s not exactly easy to get a gift for. He can afford whatever he wants, and what doesn’t exist he can make. But this…this is something I want to give back to him.” 

Sam watched him carefully, remembering everything Steve had told him of the young Bucky Barnes. That he’d been popular and good-looking, and could have been friends with anyone, but had been the only one to give Steve the time of day. 

When he’d first seen those Hydra files, he hadn’t understood how anything of this man could have survived that sort of treatment. He’d figured Steve was setting himself up for disappointment. 

But he could see it now. 

“Nah,” Sam said quietly. “I think maybe you’re gonna make the rest of us look bad by comparison. I was just gonna ask for one of those cool helmets.”

Bucky laughed at him brightly. “Oh my god,” he said, looking back at him with a grin. “Please tell me you’re gonna ask for one with Falcon wings.” 

“Just whenever I’m starting to like you,” Sam said wryly, pushing ahead of him towards their exit. “You go and open your mouth again.” 

“But, Sam! That’s a reasonable assumption!” Bucky called after him, laughter in his voice. “Wait, Sam, wait! We gotta talk about this!” 

“Screw you, Barnes,” Sam said, but he couldn’t help but laugh too. 

“Well?” Bucky insisted, jogging back up beside him. “What kind of helmet did you want to ask for if _not_ Falcon wings?” 

“Just a regular helmet!” Sam insisted. “You know, with Asgardian metal or whatever.” 

“They actually, for the most part, have the same elements that we do,” Bucky told him. “Their armor is just steel, or titanium, depending. They _do_ have Uru, which is unique to Asgard and what they use to forge weapons like Mjolnir, but honestly I doubt they’ll share that even _with_ owing you a favor. Anyway, if you want really advanced armor, what you want is vibranium, but there’s only one place to get it, and they’re also pretty rightly wary of sharing.”

Sam squinted at him. “How do you know all that?” 

“I spoke to Thor about Asgard, and Tony’s researched every piece of Asgardian tech he’s managed to get his hands on,” Bucky explained. “As much as Tony doesn’t like to admit it, what makes Asgard’s technology more advanced is magic.” 

“Oh yeah, I bet that pisses him off,” Sam said, laughing. “Hey, maybe I should ask for a magic helmet?” 

“You need to dream bigger,” Bucky told him. 

“This from the guy that asked for a _book_?” Sam demanded. 

Bucky laughed. “Well, it’s a very good book,” he said. 

Sam pulled a stop when they came up the subway steps back to the street level. Bucky, the coordinated and graceful assassin, slammed into his back at the abrupt stop. 

The bookstore was impossible to miss, which made him wonder why he’d never noticed it before. There was a huge stone sculpture of an open book above the large double doors, with _Bountiful Books: New and Used_ written in beautiful script across it. 

“Wow,” Sam said. “Man, I’m not a book enthusiast but this place is pretty awesome. Is it new?” 

“Pretty sure,” Bucky agreed, as he steadied himself and moved to stand beside him. He reached back and grabbed Sam’s sleeve, tugging him towards it. “Come on. Before Clint catches up. He drinks mochas like he’s taking shots.”

The inside of the bookstore did not disappoint. It was three stories, unstructured, with shelves that went all the way up to the top, and spiraling open staircases that lined the shelves at the different levels. 

Bucky’s grip tightened dramatically on his sleeve. “Look at all the books,” he breathed. “Oh my god.” 

“You sure this gift was for Stark and not for you?” Sam asked wryly. 

Bucky released him abruptly, the light in his eyes sort of just flickered out, making Sam feel pretty much like the biggest asshole ever. “Right, the mission,” Bucky said firmly, before heading to the checkout station. 

Sam sighed and trailed after him. What was it with super soldiers and the big hurt eyes, anyway? 

But Bucky seemed to shake it off quickly enough, putting on a charming grin for the cashier that Sam had only previously seen on the film reels at the Smithsonian. “Hi,” he said. “I’m looking for—“

“The far back shelf in the children’s section,” she said, disinterestedly, as she spun on a stool and read a Cosmo that looked like it was from sometime in the 1980s. “You’ll find what you’re looking for.” 

“Thanks,” Bucky said, before easily spinning to head towards the children’s section. 

Sam followed him with a bemused shake of his head. “I’m guessing you called ahead?” he asked. 

“Hmm,” Bucky said noncommittally, already absorbed in the books. The children’s section was an open half circle with a carpet pattered like grass and a huge plastic tree in the center. He ran his fingers across a stack of brightly colored books. “If I’d had a place like this to go as a kid, I’d never have left.” 

“Bit of a bookworm, were you?” Sam asked, with a snort. “That definitely didn’t make the history books.” 

“Didn’t really have time to be,” Bucky admitted. “But I’d read when I could.” 

Bucky knelt down in front of the back shelf, running his eyes across the titles. Sam leaned down next to him. “What are we looking for?” 

“Antoine de Saint-Exupéry,” Bucky replied. “ _The Little Prince_.” 

“Hey, I know that book,” Sam said. 

“I haven’t read it,” Bucky admitted, “maybe sometime, if Tony doesn’t mind.” 

“You don’t have to ask permission,” Sam said gently, crouching down further beside him. He frowned in concern. Pepper had, briefly and without providing details, warned them all against giving any direct orders to Bucky. The unspoken part of that had been pretty grim, because Sam suspected when he was first rescued Bucky hadn’t been able to say no. “You can read it if you want.” 

Bucky spotted the book, and paused briefly before pulling it out. It was an old version of it, though the dust jacket was only slightly flawed with a rip in one corner and a crease along the bottom edge. Sam suspected it was a first edition. “I didn’t mean it like that,” Bucky said, as he opened the book to the first page. 

There was a inscription on the inside cover, in beautiful delicate calligraphy: _To my little Prince. I love you always, mom._

“I just meant, I’m not sure if it’s something he’d want to share,” Bucky explained. 

Sam dropped to his knees, his eyes going wide. “Is that signed by who I think it’s signed by?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” Bucky said quietly. “Can’t get her back for him, but I can at least give him back this.” 

“Damn, Barnes,” Sam said, whistling low. “I take back everything. You are the best at gifts.” 

Bucky delicately let his fingers trace the words, before gently closing the book. He let out a breath. “I guess we’ll see,” he said, before smiling tightly. “Just got to get up the nerve to give it to him.” 

“He doesn’t blame you, you know that?” Sam said. “You think he’d be dating you, if he did?” 

“I think he doesn’t blame me because he understands I never would have done that if I’d had a choice,” Bucky said. “That doesn’t change that I’m still the one that did it. I don’t know how he can even stand to look at me, sometimes.” 

Sam had never thought he’d have the urge to _hug_ Bucky Barnes, who was snarky and seemingly overconfident and basically a pain in the ass, but there it was. He didn’t, because they weren’t there yet, but he did place a hand on his shoulder. “You remember when I said if I didn’t know if your attitude was really healthy or fucked up?” he asked solemnly. 

“Yeah?” Bucky said, glancing over at him.

“It’s fucked up, man,” Sam told him earnestly. “Seriously, you’re so fucked up.” 

Bucky reached out and pushed him away, knocking him back on his ass. “You’re an asshole,” he said, as he stood up, but he was smiling, so…mission accomplished. “I hate you so much.” 

“You don’t, you know you don’t,” Sam said. 

“I don’t know why people think you’re nice,” Bucky insisted. 

“Well, I mean, they believe _you’re nice_ , so apparently the standard’s pretty low,” Sam said, as he scrambled to his feet after him. Bucky was already at the counter when he caught up, but the woman still hadn’t looked up from her magazine. 

“It’s already been paid for, sweetie,” she said, as she flipped to the next page. 

Bucky frowned, leaning on the counter. “Are you sure? I just—“ he started. 

“Did you really think Thor would make you pay for it?” she asked, continuing her slow spin on the stool. “It’s all yours.” 

Bucky pulled the book up against his chest, and stepped back. “Right,” he said. “Thanks!” 

“Anytime,” she said, waving distractedly. 

Sam glanced back at the bookshelves as they headed towards the exit. “It’s kinda weird there’s no one else here, don’t you think?” 

“I guess,” Bucky agreed. “It’s nice, though. I wish we had more time, but Tony promised he’d actually eat today so I’m going to bring him lunch.” 

“You bring him lunch? And you wonder what he sees in you,” Sam said with a snort, as they stepped back out onto the sidewalk. “No one brings me lunch.” 

“Maybe you should try being nice,” Bucky told him. 

“Whatever, I—“ Sam broke off as he caught sight of something behind him, and turned to look back at the bookstore. 

The bookstore that was no longer there. 

He reached out and tapped Bucky on the shoulder, pointing at the buildings in front of them. Right in front of them was the small cafe and the bank that had been on either side of the bookstore. “Uh, where did the bookstore go?” he asked. 

“Oh,” Bucky said, blinking back at the buildings. “That makes sense.”

“What?” Sam demanded. “How does that—how does that _make sense_? That whole place is just gone, like some kinda Harry Potter shit.” 

“I mean, I thought it was sort of weird the book would be this close,” Bucky said, and shrugged. “I think Thor enlisted a little help in getting it to me.” 

“Huh,” Sam said faintly. “Aliens, man. Aliens.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky said, grinning back at him. “It’s pretty cool. It’s not flying cars cool, but it’ll do.” 

“I wish we had a flying car right now,” Sam sighed. He wasn’t looking forward to walking all the way back, where they may or may not be stalked by freakin’ _Hawkeye_ and assorted paparazzi. 

“We’ll take a taxi back,” Bucky decided, having pity on him. 

Sam would feel bad but he was pretty sure Bucky could afford it, so he let him flag it down, and they climbed in. “Disappearing bookstores,” he muttered to himself. “What even is my life.” 

Bucky just grinned at him, still holding the children’s book against his chest. “You act like that’s even in the top ten of weird things that have happened to you,” he laughed. 

“I don’t know about you, but that’s definitely in my top ten,” Sam insisted. “I mean, it’s probably number ten, but it still makes the list.” 

Bucky laughed brightly, and Sam couldn’t help but grin back. He was pretty sure today was the first time he’d seen Bucky laugh where it wasn’t at his expense. And fine, maybe he could understand why Steve cared so much about this idiot. _Maybe_. 

Bucky managed to get them back inside the tower as unnoticed as when they’d left, but Clint was waiting for them by the elevator. He was leaning back against the wall, his hat inexplicably turned sideways, and his arms were crossed. “Usually I can find someone even when I give them the ten minute head start,” he said. “You want to tell me where you’ve been?” 

“We went to a disappearing bookstore,” Bucky said. “You probably couldn’t find us because we were outside the normal space-time continuum.” 

Clint rolled his eyes and looked at Sam. “You want to help me out here at all?” 

“What he said,” Sam told him, pointing back at Bucky. 

“You guys suck,” Clint told them, as he spun around and started head back towards the lobby. “I better at least get my damn lilies!’ 

Sam and Bucky laughed as they got onto the elevator. “He’s so dramatic,” Sam said. 

“Right?” Bucky agreed. “Not like us. We’re the exact right amount of dramatic.” 

“You’ve got that right,” Sam agreed, holding out his fist, which Bucky bumped easily. “You know, you’re alright, Bucky.” 

Bucky broke out into that bright sunny grin of his, and Sam was taken aback for a moment, having it directed at him for the first time. “What?” Sam asked. 

“You called me Bucky,” he said. “I think you like me.”

“Yeah, and what about you?” Sam asked, turning to look back at him as he stepped off onto his floor. “Way I remember it, you’re the one that invited me on this little adventure in the first place.” 

Bucky smiled, as he leaned against the back wall of the elevator. “I always liked you, Sam,” he said easily, his voice the same sort of earnest tone that Steve had almost all the time. 

And then the elevator doors were slipping shut again and taking Bucky back up to the penthouse. 

Sam laughed to himself, turning to head to his suite. “This crazy place,” he muttered. 

Not that he would want to be anywhere else.


End file.
